


The Twelfth Hand

by shootingstarcipher



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Depression, Gore, Human Bill Cipher, M/M, Masturbation, Mental Instability, Paraphilia, Self-Harm, Smut, Violence, older dipper
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-07
Updated: 2016-11-28
Packaged: 2018-08-20 03:01:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8233801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shootingstarcipher/pseuds/shootingstarcipher
Summary: Life after the first summer Dipper had spent in Gravity Falls wasn’t as glamorous as he’d expected, but it was even worse for Bill Cipher. Trapped in a body he didn’t want in a world he couldn’t understand, he couldn’t help feeling relieved when he stumbled upon a bed-ridden boy with a face he would never forget. Too bad he wasn’t met with the same reaction.





	1. Falling Apart

Staying like this must have its perks, Bill told himself as he stood staring at the body that was now his own - not that it had been anyone else’s previously - in the mirror. He hated it. No, it was stronger than that. He despised it. But this was meant to be the perfect body - for humans, anyway - and that had to have been worth something.

What he hated the most was the way his clothes clung to his body, suffocating him. That’s why he’d taken them off. The crisp white shirt lay crumpled by his feet, the soft black trousers lying in heap next to it, and beside the two of those was the long black overcoat with the golden buttons which were the only part of the outfit he actually liked. Maybe the boots weren’t so bad either, but he’d taken those off too in an indignant protest. The bow tie - which he actually quite liked - had received the same treatment.

His hair wasn’t the worst part of it all. It was blond, which was as close to actual gold as he was ever going to get, and the humans seemed to like it. His eyes were like small orbs of liquid gold and it would have been perfect except for the fact that he had one too many of them. He’d thought this would be what he’d wanted, to look like an ordinary human with the average number of eyes for one such creature, but now that he’d achieved his goal it just felt wrong to him. He’d experienced it before, when he’d taken possession of a human boy’s body four years beforehand, and back then he’d thought it a luxury. But that was mainly for the fact that the boy was so distressed by what he was doing that nothing could have knocked him down from cloud nine.

Now it was just plain wrong. He didn’t feel like himself at all. 

He took a step closer to the mirror and glared at his reflection. His two golden eyes glowered back, mocking him, taunting him. In a fit of rage, he grabbed a fistful of his hair and dragged it over his face, blocking out his right eye and smoothing it out once his sudden burst of anger had subsided. It worked, but it still wasn’t perfect.

The sound of footsteps outside the locked door interrupted him and he hurriedly scooped his clothes back up from the tiled floor and threw them on, now more crumpled and untidy than ever. The voice he heard outside was irritatingly familiar but not shocking at all. He had, after all, broken into the only place he knew well from his brief experiences in this dimension which had ended four years prior, when he’d been defeated and his body - the body he’d hoped to return to - turned to stone by his arch nemesis and his idiotic yet admittedly (somewhat) courageous twin brother.

Stanford Pines. It was his voice that was bellowing through the door at him, the old man naturally assuming that his brother, Stanley, was the one he was yelling at (this was to be expected as it was usually only the two of them in the Mystery Shack, although sometimes there were others who wandered in and out of the own accord like the red-head or Question Mark).

Bill said nothing, keeping quiet as he listened to the voice booming on the other side of the door. He’d just had a phone call. Someone was sick - severely, judging by the hint of worry in his voice. Paralysed from the waist down, he said. Stuck in hospital for the foreseeable future. A part of Bill wanted to know more - who it was, what illness they had - but that could wait. He wasn’t here to torment the six-fingered old man whose home he’d broken into for once. This time, he had a different pair of twins to seek out.

It was the boy he was most interested in. Pine Tree. Dipper, as the other humans called him. He was the one who would be the most help. Bill had been keeping an eye on him until of late - on both him and his sister, in fact - but he’d been so busy recently getting his hands on a new vessel to possess so that he’d be temporarily free to do whatever he wanted in this world that he hadn’t had the time to haunt his dreams or check up on him for a while. 

He’d have to be a lot more careful than the last time he’d entered this reality though. He’d have to blend in with the rest of the world until he’d successfully completed his plans. Then, once his biggest threats were out of the way, the world would be his. This time he didn’t plan on bringing any friends along for the ride. They hadn’t been much help last time and he certainly wasn’t letting them get in the way of his plans now.

In spite of his ever so irritating and perplexing human body and its many, many limitations, he was glad about one thing: there was no barrier to keep him confined within the town now. He was free to go wherever he wanted - provided he had the means to get there. The human he was anticipating meeting again was no longer in the town he’d been sent to, though he did come back with his twin sister every summer, and so he had no choice but to find his way to where he was. 

In hindsight, he’d overestimated his abilities in a human form. His body wasn’t suited to travelling long distances; that much was evident when he found himself staggering down the side of the road which led him away from Gravity Falls, by now having successfully made it out of the Mystery Shack without being seen. He was struggling to control his weak, pathetic excuses for limbs and wound up having to stop, collapsing on the strip of grass running along the edge of the road. Being a mortal was tiring work, especially for a being who had never had to put himself through any sort of physical exhaustion before. He felt as though his body was falling apart, tearing at the seams.

So when a seemingly enormous vehicle pulled up beside him, a feeling of unexpected relief washed over him. He’d never thought he’d be so happy to see what he had until then considered a useless piece of machinery designed only to transport idle members of race that had no reason to exist, but there he was, suddenly springing to life when he set eyes on it. Money wasn’t an issue. While he didn’t particularly understand it, he didn’t feel he really needed to. He dug his hand into his pocket (standing up and approaching the bus simultaneously) and the money materialised in his hand. Not knowing how much he needed or what any of it really meant, he handed the driver a large wad of paper money and figured that would get him almost anywhere. Without a word - not that the driver cared now that he was in possession of so much money - he pushed past him and staggered down the aisle until eventually sitting down in a window seat near the back of the bus.

He was the only passenger. It was just as well. He didn’t know how to act inconspicuously around other people and besides, the only person he was interested in was Pine Tree. He’d know what to do. And even if he tried to refuse to be a part in his plans, Bill was confident he’d find a way to persuade him. Everyone always wanted something. Everyone had a breaking point. And if Pine Tree had the audacity to claim otherwise, Bill would prove him wrong - he had no doubt about that.

Stifling a yawn which he fought back and swallowed, he leaned against the window and gazed out at the world around him. Bursts of colour - whites and greens and blues and browns - whirred past him in a blur in such a way that he had difficulty latching onto any one of them. His eyes were heavily lidded and he gave up fighting against the feeling of exhaustion and closed them, a strange yet not quite unpleasant aching sensation filling his head as his breathing slowed into a state of relaxation. The buzz of the engine lulled him and he slumped forward in his seat, still leaning against the window.

This must have been what sleep felt like. His pulse rate had slowed and his breathing was deeper than before. The sun shone in through the window, warming him and he let out a quiet, soothed groan in response. He didn’t let himself sleep. Instead, he forced his eyes - both of them - to stay open, focusing on the vehicle’s interior to keep him entertained.

The seats were a royal blue colour and soft to the touch. He reached out on impulse and ran the pads of his thumbs across the back of the seat in front of him, smiling to himself at the velvety feel of it. It wasn’t at all like what he’d expected. The floor beneath his feet was a faded red and next to each set of seats was a bright yellow pole made of rusted metal coated with peeling paint, some of which had red square buttons attached to them. The brightness of the paint made his eyes hurt. He didn’t mind because pain was indeed still the most hilarious thing he could think of, even if he was feeling it and not inflicting it.

Tiredness eventually caught up with him, however, and before long he was closing his eyes again, giving in to the temptation of unconsciousness.

He was nearer his destination (not that he knew precisely where that destination was) when he woke up, the environment outside the window becoming increasingly familiar with each turn the vehicle made. There were several more passengers on the bus now - six more, to be precise. He took his time taking it all in, the excitement of finally approaching the boy he’d been watching and haunting for the last four years growing immensely.

But it didn’t take long for him to become bored by the journey and he found himself fixating his gaze on the bright red button protruding from the yellow pole closest to him. He’d never bothered learning about all the ins and outs of boring everyday human lives and so had no idea what the button did when pressed. He decided it was about time he found out.

The other passengers didn’t seem as amused by the button as he was. The driver wasn’t very happy with him either. He pressed it once and it pinged, lighting up a sign at the front of the vehicle and, finding this mildly entertaining, he pressed it again. And again. And again. And then once more for good measure. By this point four out of the six new passengers were sending icy stares in his direction but he simply grinned back at them all, feeling like he’d accomplished something great. Determined to elicit a reaction from the ebony-haired woman sitting a few sits in front of him and the elderly man across the aisle, he pushed the button once more, only to be yelled at by the driver instead of glared at by his two targets.

He decided to stop then and went back to staring out of the window, although his lips remained curled into a crooked grin, his sharp white teeth showing. He was close to where Pine Tree lived; he was sure of it. Everything looked so familiar to him. So when the bus stopped a second later, he stood up and got off.

His boots clacked against the pavement as he stepped off the vehicle and gazed up at the sky, his eyes blinking automatically when the bright light emanating from the sun pierced his vision. Looking away, he turned his attention to the rest of his surroundings. Thin trees lined the pavement each side of the road, the ground littered with burnt orange and crispy brown leaves with reddened edges. They crunched under his feet as he walked across them. The sky was a clear expanse of pale blue, cloudless and uncluttered. He’d seen it all a million times before. Pine Tree’s home was just round the corner from him. He kept his gaze trained on the floor in front of him as he walked towards the corner of the street, and then on the house in question as soon as it came into view.

Instead of walking straight up to the house and knocking on the front door, he hung back in front of the window and peered into the living room. There was nobody there - not Pine Tree, not Shooting Star, and no-one else either. He had been expecting to find the boy he was looking for curled up on one of the cream-coloured sofas with his nose stuck in a book like he usually was, so this came to him as a surprise. He knocked on the door anyway and waited for only a moment before he suddenly became impatient and twisted the handle, grinning to himself when he succeeded in pushing the door open.

Pine Tree could have still been in the house, of course, as could the rest of his family. So he stumbled in through the door - closing it behind him - and started searching for him, inspecting the house in process. Along the hallway, pinned to the wall on his right, ran a series of photographs of the family and he stopped to stare at each one, constantly focusing his gaze on Dipper. He remembered some of them being taken.

Knowing that the boy he was looking for wouldn’t be found in the living room, he headed upstairs and made his way to his bedroom, which he no longer had to share with his twin. Even if he’d never seen the inside of Pine Tree’s room before, he would have known that books would have been involved somewhere. Saying there were a lot of books would have been a massive understatement. The walls were lined with bookcases, each one with five wooden shelves full to the brim with books. Some were mysteries, some were more factual, but they had all been read cover to cover at least four or five times. Bill snorted as he staggered in, drinking in the ridiculous number of books scattered across the room.

The first thing he did was lay down on the bed that Dipper had so often lain in, covering himself with the blanket and breathing in his scent. It was hypnotic. The pillow, however, was uncomfortable. There was something underneath it. He slipped his hand beneath it and curled his fingers around a wooden handle, bringing out a sharp kitchen knife with dried blood staining the blade. 

He suddenly became aware that he didn’t have time to waste and besides, he could come back here any time he wanted to. Pine Tree wasn’t going to stop him this time, no matter how hard he tried.

He didn’t spend much time in Mabel’s room. He poked his head out around the door and peered in, examining it all. He hadn’t spent much time watching her, his main focus being on her brother, but from what he knew about her, the bedroom he stepped into now was just as he’d predicted. Bright. Pink walls, purple carpet, and drawings cluttering the walls. Even her pillowcase and duvet cover were colourful and vibrant. Girly, too. He didn’t feel like being in there too long.

The next room he entered was the bathroom. He was surrounded by laminate flooring and white tiled walls that could have done with a splash of colour - red, maybe. The knife in his hand gave him ideas he couldn’t push away, compulsions he couldn’t fight off. The temptation was too overpowering to resist.

Kicking the door shut and bolting it, he turned towards the full-length mirror and grinned. The pain he was about to feel was going to be amazing.

He twirled the knife in his fingers for a minute or so, contemplating how exactly he would carry out his plan. In the end, he simply held it up to his right eye - brushing back his hair in the process - and dug it under his lower eyelid. The initial pain was too intense not to respond vocally to it and he cried out, half in agony and half in excitement. He saw blood spurting out of the wound in his eye and it spurred him on, encouraging him to dig the knife deeper into him.

He never thought he’d actually hear himself scream but he did, screaming at the top of his lungs at the agony that came with sticking a knife straight into his eye. He didn’t want it. He’d never wanted it - not since finding out how unnatural it made him feel. So he didn’t care at all when it dropped to the floor, splattering blood across the pale laminate flooring. Pine Tree’s reaction was going to be even more hilarious than the actual experience and that would make it all just that bit more appealing.

He only stopped screaming when he heard voices downstairs - not Pine Tree’s, not Shooting Star’s, but someone else’s. At that point he gritted his teeth, swallowed his screams, and gave one last look at his reflection in the mirror - perfect, much better now that blood was dripping down his face and staining his golden hair - before running out of the bathroom and creeping down the stairs, letting himself out of the front door and leaving behind a gory mess and a bloody trail (as well as the knife he’d found under Pine Tree’s pillow). Pine Tree would hate it. That wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.

Now that he was happier with his appearance his lips curled upwards into a manic grin only made more intense by the excruciating pain his missing eye was causing him. The feeling was unbelievable. It was like nothing he’d ever imagined.

But now that he had left Dipper’s house and still hadn’t found him, he had no idea where to go. This hadn’t been part of the plan. The sky was beginning to darken by now and he knew he’d have to find his target soon or else his plan would fail. This body wouldn’t last long without a human’s help, and Dipper was the only human he knew and trusted well enough to include him in his scheme.

What happened next was a complete accident but, being Bill Cipher, he was far too proud to admit it. It was stroke of luck he didn’t believe. You could even call it destiny.

It didn’t seem very lucky to begin with, however, when - after staggering about the streets of California in a desperate search of something familiar, anything which could lead him to Pine Tree’s location - he suddenly blacked out, his blood-soaked body collapsing on the pavement as he lost his grip on consciousness.


	2. Sinking In

Pine Tree had left him. He was all alone, dark waves of liquid blackness tearing him away from the shore. He felt his legs give way underneath him as he was dragged away, sinking, drowning in what could only have been described as his worst nightmare come to life. His voice was hoarse and inaudible over the rush of the water, not that Dipper would have come back for him even if he had heard him. He could see him now, turning his back on him and walking away - not in a hurry, not out of fear or panic, but calmly and deliberately. He knew exactly what he was doing; he was shutting out the monster that had haunted him for years, consuming his thoughts and constantly lurking in the darkest corners of his mind.

A wave of panic struck him before he immediately realised what was happening. This was his domain, though he’d never been here unintentionally before. The dreamscape. This nightmarish world was just that - a nightmare.

With gritted teeth and fire in his golden eye, he silently commanded the boy to return and, just as he had ordered him to, Dipper Pines came running back. Standing at the edge of the shore, just a mere inch or so away from the roaring abyss of watery darkness, he stretched out his hand on Bill’s command and the demon clawed at him, pulling himself back up onto solid ground.

He fell to the dirt almost immediately and Dipper knelt down next to him, a look of concern on his face. Bill barely noticed his expression, too busy panting as he tried to catch his breath and magically dry his drenched clothes simultaneously. But when he had managed to steady his breathing and his heartbeat and the black water had evaporated from his elegant clothing, mixing in with misty air around them, he looked up at the brunet and almost - almost - broke.

But he didn’t. He couldn’t. He held himself together - because anything else, even in the dreamscape which the real Pine Tree had no control over, would have been admitting defeat - and stood up from the ground, dusting himself off. He would have spoken - he had his mouth open and almost did - but before he could choke out even a single word the two of them were both swept off their feet, carried off by a sudden wave of blackness.

He knew what was happening. As soon as that tiny trickle of light seeped into his field of vision, illuminating the darkness around him, he knew. He was waking up.

A bright white ceiling connected to four white walls greeted him. He groaned, not knowing where he was, and turned his head from side to side, the stiffness of his neck both irritating and alarming him. On each side of the bed he was lying on - the bed which he had never set eye on before - was a row of other identical ones. There was another row of beds opposite him too, each one occupied by another human body. There were about thirteen other people in the room with him, none of whom appeared to be conscious.

His clothes weren’t his own either; they’d been replaced with some sort of... gown. He pushed the crumpled blanket away and examined it. It was a pale blue colour and hung loosely from his slender frame, covering him from his shoulders to just above his knees, and was tied in a neat bow at the back of his neck. And there was something strapped across his face, covering the gaping hole that his missing eye had left behind.

Not enough blood, he mentally noted as he examined himself and the rest of the room. There was virtually no colour at all and there certainly wasn’t any blood to keep him occupied. After sitting there for a moment, bewildered, it suddenly hit him. He had a scheme to carry out and couldn’t get side-tracked by waking up in confusing places that were unfamiliar to him. He had to get to Pine Tree. He had to find a way out. But at the same time, he still had to go about unnoticed.

He slipped out of bed, not bothering to smooth the blanket out as he got up, and headed towards the door. He moved about silently, taking care not to wake anyone else up, and stepped out into the dimly lit hallway. By this point he understood where he was. A hospital. He’d seen it before, and most recently a year ago, when he’d watched Pine Tree go there with his sister after she’d injured herself. He couldn’t recall the precise details of her incident; he’d never taken the time to focus on it.

It was even harder for him to walk now and he stumbled forwards, nearly crashing into the wall as he attempted to move down the hallway in search of a way out of the building. He was light-headed and sweating, an aching feeling returning to the back of his head. His body felt almost empty, like he needed something to fill the void in his stomach. He was really starting to hate being trapped in that body, though he could leave at any time if he really wanted to. But he still felt trapped there. If he left, he’d never get his own body back - the one that had been preserved when Pine Tree’s uncle had destroyed his chances of making their world his own.

He was fortunate, although he didn’t know it, when he succeeded in wandering the halls without coming across any of the hospital staff. They would have sent him straight back to his bed in the other room. But he didn’t come across any of them until he reached the end of a corridor and peered round the corner, immediately catching sight of a uniformed woman walking into a nearby door and another passing her in the doorway. Keeping to the shadows and with one hand on the wall, he let himself into the ward closest to him.

On the door was a placard on which the words “Neurology Ward” were engraved. Around each bed was a pale green curtain, obscuring the demon’s view of any other patients. But from behind one of those curtains came a sound - a familiar, curious sound that made him stop dead in his tracks. After a moment, he crept towards the bed around which the curtain was hanging and pulled it back slightly, peering in.

Pine Tree. He’d seen this a million times before, but never like this.

Dipper was lying back with his head resting on the pillow propped up against the wall behind him and the blanket covering was the rest of his body. From where he was standing, Bill could see that his legs were slightly parted and that his hand was moving beneath the blanket. Rituals like this were common among humans and even Pine Tree engaged in them frequently, though not as much so as the rest of his kind. He inched closer to the curtain, his golden eye glimmering with intrigue as he watched. 

The first time he’d witnessed the brunet engage in such a practice he’d experienced an intense feeling of dislike. But then his dislike had faded into pure curiosity and, whilst invading one of Dipper’s many dreams, he had leapt at the opportunity to obtain some answers to his questions and manipulate him in the process. He learned that the acts were a way of relieving stress and tension and that, while it was uncomfortable if a human’s compulsions went ignored until they faded away, they might have caused a feeling even more pleasurable than absolute agony. And ever since then, a new custom had been added to Pine Tree’s rituals. Every time he intended to give in to such impulses, he drew on the palm of his hand a triangle in scarlet ink.

Keeping his gaze trained on the boy in front of him, Bill gripped the curtain even more tightly than before and peeled it back, allowing him to get a better view. Dipper’s back was arched now, his head thrown back as a hoarse, throaty moan left his lips. The fingers of his free hand had entangled themselves in his hair, tugging at the strands harshly. His other hand was moving faster now and, knowing he was close to finishing, Bill smirked as he watched. Although he didn’t completely understand it, he knew that Dipper certainly would have hated it if he’d known he was watching.

His breathing hitched in the back of his throat, his torso convulsing involuntarily for a moment or so, and then he lay still, pulling his hand out from beneath the blanket and reaching for a tissue to wipe it on. That’s when Bill decided to make his move.

The smirk still plastered on his face, he pushed past the curtain and stepped into Pine Tree’s view. Dipper immediately looked up at him in alarm, a wave of embarrassment masking the fear behind his chestnut eyes. “You do that a lot,” the blond grinned, taunting him as he sat down on the edge of his bed. “But that’s not why I’m here.” He paused for a moment and Dipper stayed silent as he stared at him, traces of fear beginning to trickle into his otherwise ordinary features. “Come on, Pine Tree. You must recognise me,” the demon added, realising that the boy seemed to have no idea who he was.

“I know who you are… Bill.” Dipper’s voice was shaky and he seemed to be unable to choke out more than two or three words at a time, but he refused to admit to any anxiety. Bill smiled to himself at the sound of his voice. Full of fear, he noted. That would make him more willing to submit to him, surely.

“Good,” he drawled, leaning back and eyeing the brunet with a devilish glint in his golden eye. “Let’s cut to the chase, kid. I want… No, I need something from you.” Dipper shook his head automatically but Bill had already gotten himself preoccupied. The triangle on Pine Tree’s hand had caught his eye and he found himself gazing at it, his lips curling up into a satisfied smile. “Do you remember when you started worshipping me, kid? I do.”

Dipper shook his head again, more forcefully this time. “I’m not… worshipping you,” he growled, his teeth gritted in agitation. “I never have. And I never will.” His hands were balled up into fists but his hostility failed to have any effect at all on the demon, who simply leaned towards him and cocked his head in an attempt to feign innocence. It didn’t work. Dipper saw right through it.

All the same, Bill grabbed him by the wrist and held up his hand, putting the red inked triangle on his palm on display. “Oh really? What’s all this about then?” 

Snatching his arm away, Dipper folded his arms across his chest and scowled at him, refusing to reply. Bill hummed contentedly in response, waiting until the brunet asked him what he was doing there in the hospital and - a question which had been burning away in the back of his mind ever since the demon had made his presence known - why he was appearing in a human body dressed in a hospital gown.

“I didn’t steal it, if that’s what you’re thinking,” the blond interrupted, sounding just about as laidback as he ever could. “It’s my body - and it’s my hospital gown too,” he added quickly. “Someone must have found me. I was… injured, I guess.” He could tell Pine Tree didn’t think it much of an explanation but it was really all he had. “And as for what I need from you, Pine Tree…”

The look of alarm that had died from the brunet’s was suddenly reignited and he swatted the demon’s hand away as he crawled towards him, a manic gleam of hunger in his golden eye. Bill had missed the way the younger boy’s heart slammed against his ribcage whenever he was frightened, the way his lower trembled and how his breathing started to quicken.

His mistake was forgetting to shut the curtain properly - as well as not keeping his voice down. But he hadn’t been able to contain his excitement and so any common sense he had possessed had been thrown out the window. The sound of footsteps approaching him served as a warning though and in a matter of seconds he was being grabbed at by the shoulder and dragged away from the target of his manipulations. His immediate reaction was to fight back and flail around in protest but then a voice in the back of his mind screamed at him, reminding him not to reveal his identity, abilities or true desires to anyone other than Pine Tree until his plan had been successful.

And so, even though it went against everything he thought he’d known, he remained subdued, fighting off his impulses of aggression and violence and obediently allowed the nurse to lead him back to the room he’d come from.

It was at this point, when he climbed back into his bed without a word but with a sinister scowl instead, that the gravity of the situation he’d gotten himself into began sinking in. Still, there was always the morning. Then he’d make his escape - and he’d take Pine Tree with him too.


	3. Dark

Morning finally came and Bill had never been so pleased - though he expected he’d be even happier once Pine Tree agreed to go along with his latest scheme. The trouble wasn’t getting back to Pine Tree on the neurology ward (he had the route memorised and was certain he’d be able to talk himself out of any trouble). The trouble was getting out of his own ward whilst under constant supervision, not just from the nurses that were continuously walking in and out of the room, but also from the other patients being held in the same room as him.

Currently, a nurse was leaning over his bedside and shoving a tray of the most disgusting thing he’d ever set eyes on into his lap. Some sort of meat, it looked like. He turned his nose up at it immediately, without even entertaining the idea of trying it, but the nurse left it there anyway and scowled at him, urging him to eat it. He could tell that she didn’t really care whether he ate it or not, though, and that her issue was with the hassle of him refusing it. His stomach clearly disagreed with his decision to refuse it but he didn’t understand why. It growled in protest but he continued to ignore it, reflecting that he wouldn’t have known how to eat it anyway.

As soon as she left he pushed the tray aside and scanned the room with his gaze, soaking in all the information presented regarding the locations of all the other patients. Some of them were looking his way. He glared back, baring his teeth until they stopped staring. It was unnerving, the way they looked at him - like he was something to be scrutinised and rejected.

Shivering slightly when the cold air hit his bare legs - the hospital gown not being very long - he sneered at the remaining few patients who were still staring at him as he strode out through the door, creeping into the hallway. Pine Tree was within reach. It took no time at all to find the ward he was on - but then a problem arose.

Shooting Star. Mabel Pines. Pine Tree’s twin sister.

She skipped out the door and into the corridor with a grin on her face but then her face immediately fell when she caught sight of the blond walking towards her. He grinned at her wildly in reply, intending to simply push past her once he reached the door. But she didn’t move and even when he reached out and tried to push her out the way, she forced her way back to the doorway, standing in his way of getting to what he wanted. It was infuriating.

She recognised him instantly, as he recognised her the moment he saw her. It showed on her face. Her bright smile had faded and dulled to become a scowl and he glowered back at her, frowning at her surprising hostility - not that she had no reason to express any hostility towards him. But even when he barked at her to get out of the way she stayed lingering in the doorway, blocking his path. Such resilience would usually have been commendable. It was commendable when Pine Tree stood up to him. Not when Shooting Star did the same.

“I need to be in there,” he growled, gritting his teeth in frustration. For a moment he thought she was going to step aside and let him be on his way but when she still didn’t move, he decided to take matters into his own hands and gave her a harsh shove to the chest, knocking her off balance. He was inside the room in a matter of seconds but Shooting Star didn’t give up as easily as he’d hoped and grabbed him by the arm, preventing him from getting any closer to her brother.

“Why?” He looked her in the eye as she spoke, glaring angrily until he found what he’d been hoping to see. Fear. Underneath all that anger and hatred was a glimmer of fear - exactly what he lived for. “Why are you so desperate to see him? What do you want from him?”

Even without her questions, Bill had known that Pine Tree had told her almost everything that had happened the night before. He hadn’t told her what he’d been doing when the demon stepped out from behind the curtain and revealed his presence to him, but she did know that he’d said he needed something from him. And now Bill had to decide whether or not to explain himself to her.

“I don’t have to explain myself to you, Star,” he said coldly, his lips curling to form a wicked smile. “Besides, you can’t help me. I came to Pine Tree because he’s the one I need. If I want to speak to you, I’ll come and find you.” Snatching his arm away, he turned on his heel and was about to walk off in the direction of Pine Tree’s bed when the sound of her delightfully fearful voice diverted his attention once again. 

“You don’t know that,” she argued back. “I could help. I’ll do it if you’ll leave Dipper alone.”

She was being unusually selfless, Bill noted, but he didn’t care. It didn’t make a difference. He wanted Pine Tree’s help and that was all that mattered - and Bill Cipher always got what he wanted. Nothing Shooting Star could say or do was ever going to change that. Bill had only just slipped behind the curtain around Pine Tree’s bed when she started towards it, only to be told to leave by a passing nurse on account of another patient on the ward apparently feeling uncomfortable due to her presence. Knowing she couldn’t protect her brother from the demon that was determined to pester him - about what, she couldn’t understand - she turned and left, reluctantly but without a word.

Pine Tree was half asleep when the blond pushed his way into the secluded area around his hospital bed. The sudden movement of the curtains and the sight of the frenzied grin on the blond’s face snapped him out of his trance almost instantly and he sat upright, glaring in the demon’s direction. Bill’s grin only widened.

“Guess who’s back,” the demon taunted with a smirk as he stepped closer to the bed, closing the curtain behind him. Dipper replied with a half-hearted groan. It seemed as if he could barely move and lacked the energy to even attempt to make him leave. Good, Bill thought as he smiled quietly to himself. That would make everything a lot easier - less interesting, no doubt, but easier now that he couldn’t put up much of a fight. “No need to stay awake on my account, kid,” he said with a nod in Dipper’s direction, referring to the dazed look in the brunet’s eyes. He was dazed and exhausted, even though all he had done for the last week was sleep. “Besides,” the blond went on. “You don’t need to be awake for what I’ve got planned.”

By this point, the mortal had slid back down in his bed and was looking more relaxed than he had when the demon had first appeared to him but the sound of his words seemed to ignite a spark of panic in his eye and - fighting off a yawn - he tried to sit up again and demand an explanation, only to fail and murmur something incoherent under his breath. “What?” he tried again, staying laying down this time. “What are you planning?”

“Nothing much,” the demon replied, perching on the edge of the boy’s hospital bed. “Relax, kid. I’m not going to hurt you - not much, anyway.”

He waited for a few minutes, sitting eerily silently, until the human finally relaxed and gave in to his exhaustion. Dipper wasn’t asleep yet but it was obvious he wasn’t up to fighting him off, and that’s when Bill made his move. Throwing the blanket to the floor, he stood up and leaned down, bending over the mortal’s body and gripping him by his ankles. Lack of food and drink had rendered his body weak, but he was still strong enough to pull the brunet out from his bed and drop him onto the floor. Landing with a thud, Pine Tree’s eyes flung themselves open as he regained consciousness and yelped meekly at the pain and shock of falling to the cold hard floor below.

“Oops. Sorry about that, Pine Tree,” the blond apologised mockingly, his voice laced with sarcasm. “Now get up and come with me,” he demanded. “We’re going home.”

“Home?” the mortal repeated as he leaned himself against the bed behind him, too dazed and confused to comprehend what the demon was saying. Nodding in affirmation, Bill demanded again that he stood up, this time even offering his hand to him in attempt to convince him to follow his orders without question. But again, the human simply gazed up at him from the floor, not appearing to understand him. Sighing heavily, the blond kicked at his bare legs, hoping the pain would encourage him to move.

When he still made no attempt to get up, the brunet finally decided to offer an explanation. “I can’t move, Bill,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “I can’t move my legs.”

The demon cocked his head onto one side, listening intently as he spoke, and then suddenly erupted into laughter. “Well why didn’t you say so earlier? I’ll give you a lift!” A look of horror flashed across the boy’s face when Bill bent down again to scoop him up and lift him into the air, but only for a second as it disappeared once he’d been set back down on the bed and covered with the blanket again.

Although it disappointed him that his body wasn’t strong enough to carry Pine Tree any further than a couple of steps, most of Bill’s concentration was taken up by his distress over the boy being so unusually weak. It may have made his situation somewhat easier, but it was still disconcerting to see him so helpless. Still, he couldn’t let anyone - not even Pine Tree, the human he considered himself closest to - recognise his concern, so he masked it with a grin and tried to look just as sinister as he normally did.

“No need to make this any harder than it already is, kid,” he jeered as the brunet attempted to squirm away from his grip (his hand was wrapped around the younger’s arm, holding him in place). “What do you say we make a deal, Pine Tree? Just like old times.” He paused for a moment, deep in thought, and Dipper watched him think in silence, waiting patiently for him to announce his terms even though at that point he had no intention of agreeing to whatever the demon wanted from him. “All I want is a chance to get my body back… Not this piece of junk,” he clarified, gesturing to himself. “But my real body - the one Six Fingers had turned to stone. And you… What do want, exactly? Freedom? Power? Eternal happiness, or whatever?”

Bill sat back and smiled, knowing he was getting to him. All that the boy needed was an incentive to agree to him, and he was certain he knew exactly which buttons to press to get him to shake his hand and make the deal. “Or maybe you just want your knife back… Is that it?” Dipper looked at him with wide eyes when he said that, unable to believe he’d heard him correctly. He opened his mouth to say something but immediately decided he had nothing to say. “You really didn’t think I knew?” the blond teased, scowling derisively. “I’ve been in your house, kid. I’ve been in your room. But stuck here, you probably don’t get many opportunities to hurt yourself, do you?”

In spite of his confidence in his ability to know exactly what Dipper Pines was thinking almost all the time, he was shocked to discover that the boy’s mind and intentions were a lot darker than he’d first thought. “Actually I…” the younger started, attempting to correct him. “I don’t just want to hurt myself,” he mumbled, his words barely coherent.

But Bill understood. He understood perfectly. He just didn’t understand why.

“I could offer you what you want, kid. I could give that to you. All you have to do is shake my hand.” It was clear to the both of them what was about to happen. As he stretched out his hand, a familiar blue flame hovering above his palm, the demon realised that Dipper didn’t want to agree to his deal at all, but that he would do so anyway simply because he saw no other way out of the situation he was in. And he did. Using every ounce of strength he had left in his disease-ridden body, he lifted up his arm and connected their hands, signifying that the deal had been made.

When a nurse bringing Dipper a glass of water interrupted them shortly after, Bill realised he would have to wait to make their escape. But the time would come, and it would come soon. Until then, however, he returned to his bed on his own ward - reluctantly but willingly.


End file.
